


Essentials

by kageygirl



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Episode Tag, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-11
Updated: 2005-08-11
Packaged: 2017-10-19 21:15:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/205280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kageygirl/pseuds/kageygirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The essentials to happiness are something to love, something to do, and something to hope for."<br/>--William Blake, <i>In Happiness</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Essentials

**Author's Note:**

> Missing scenes for 2x01, "The Siege, Part III."

After the purposeful buzz of the infirmary, John Sheppard found the halls of Atlantis ominously empty. A squad of _Daedalus_ Marines jogging past him, off to join the city-wide Wraith hunt, only added to the air of lurking menace, and John would be really happy to get things back to what passed for normal around here.

When he opened the armory door in search of extra magazines, the clatter back among the shelves made him step quietly inside, P90 raised.

He lowered it again at the unmistakably human cursing that followed. John recognized that particular multisyllabic stream-of-consciousness, and a grin crept onto his face that he had neither the energy nor the inclination to hide.

Flying the Jumper up to the hive ship, thinking he was about to die, had been a really bad moment. Standing aboard the _Daedalus_ and listening to the radio silence, thinking he might instead be the only survivor of Atlantis, had been even worse. But getting hugged by Elizabeth had been good, maybe better than he deserved. And this moment, now, in the cramped and disturbingly depleted armory, felt like it just might end up being the best one yet.

John slipped closer to the noise and leaned a shoulder against one of the bubble pillars, addressing the blue-shirted back crouched over a spilled box of cartridges. "I would've thought you'd be taking a nap, Rodney."

Rodney shot upright and spun around, resting a hand against the counter for balance. "Major," he breathed.

Rodney looked like crap--unshaven, with that worn-thin look he got after he'd been working his ass off, when the immediate crisis had passed and he didn't have to keep pushing himself to work a miracle. But a smile broke out across his face, genuine enough to make John forget his regrets about not being there to see Rodney's reaction when they beamed down the ZPM.

Rodney was all unguarded delight and wild hope unexpectedly rewarded. John felt the back of his neck getting hot, and he wanted to duck away from all that open emotion, but he just couldn't stop looking at Rodney.

Rodney pulled himself together--tried to, anyway, though it didn't really come off. John guessed Rodney was aiming for nonchalant and put-upon, narrowing his eyes at John and straightening his spine. But Rodney's eyes were still very, very bright. "You know, it's funny you should mention a nap. That was the _plan_ , originally."

John crossed his forearms over the butt of his P90, tucking his fists under his biceps. "Where'd it go wrong?"

Rodney waved at another P90, resting on the counter, and the cartridges scattered across the floor. "Let's just say Teyla is a harsh mistress when it comes to eradicating Wraith invaders."

Which was all he needed to say--John had been on the receiving end of Teyla's righteous conviction a time or two, himself. Especially where the Wraith were concerned.

Rodney bent down to finish gathering up the stray ammo, and John knelt to help him. He smiled again--or maybe it was "still," since he wasn't sure he'd ever stopped--at the top of Rodney's head, bent close to his own. "You're funny when you're punchy."

Rodney gave a gentle snort, and lifted his head to roll his eyes at John, though the right side of his mouth twitched mutinously upward. "I'll take your word for it."

They hauled the box of cartridges back up onto the counter, next to the P90 magazines, and Rodney braced his hands against the counter's edge and arched his back, groaning as he stretched out the muscles.

When Rodney straightened, he was right in John's space, looking haggard but grimly satisfied. John didn't bother to move away, just stood there soaking in Rodney's presence, letting it ground him again. He leaned in and said, "Thanks for getting the shield back up, by the way."

Rodney looked surprised for a second, and John wondered how he'd have reacted to what John hadn't said, to all the things that got tangled up and caught somewhere in his throat, before he could get them out.

 _Thanks for taking care of the city. Thanks for saving everything that's important. Thanks for still being here._

But John hadn't said any of that, and Rodney just looked back at him for a minute, then shrugged. "Oh. Well." He was clearly too tired even to brag, because he just gave John a quick grin and waved a hand in a vague circle. "Thanks for the ZPM."

John held up his hands. "Hey, that was Caldwell, not me."

"Well, thank you for coming back with it," Rodney said, his voice deceptively quiet and way too honest. John sucked in a quick, surprised breath, feeling his face freeze.

Elizabeth and Colonel Everett had both knocked John off his footing in different ways, and John had thought maybe Rodney would brace him till he got his balance back, let him ease back into their normal routine. But Rodney's naked relief hit him hard, harder than anything else had.

And John was doing a piss-poor job of hiding his own surprise, apparently, because Rodney blinked and looked away, not meeting his eyes any more. "Well. I should get back. Things to do, Wraith to mop up--although it's entirely possible that Teyla's taken care of them all herself while I've been fetching more ammo--"

" _Rodney._ " John caught Rodney's wrist before he picked up the P90, and yeah, like he thought, Rodney was trembling a little. A body just couldn't keep going indefinitely, even if the spirit was willing. "I think you've done enough for one day."

And he had, he so goddamn had. Rodney looked back up at him, and John tried to let Rodney see how grateful he really was, for--

Just... for everything.

But John knew he'd never get the words out right, and--well, _seriously_ too damn strung out to trust a lot of the impulses flickering along his nerves. So he just slid his hand down Rodney's arm, threading his fingers between Rodney's and clasping his hand for a minute, keeping his eyes on their intertwined fingers and trying to let whatever the hell was going on show itself on his face.

He couldn't keep it up, though. He felt too raw, too exposed, and he finally had to release Rodney's hand. John brought out a smirk, only then looking up at Rodney again. "Consider Teyla overridden--you're more of a danger to us than you are to the Wraith, like this. Go get some sleep."

"Right. Sleep. Yes." Rodney pulled his hand back slowly, and his expression was... complicated. Not bad-complicated, though. Maybe even good-complicated. But definitely too much for John to decipher just then.

With a quick nod and a soft, serious, "Be careful, Major," Rodney headed for the door.

John thought maybe Rodney's jitters had transferred themselves to him, because his hand was shaking, now, too.

He took a deep breath, grabbed the extra mags that Rodney had left behind, and went to take Rodney's place with the teams sweeping the city.

* * *

"Could we maybe just disable the deep space sensors entirely? Because I am rapidly approaching the point where I'd simply rather not know about the ugly death bearing down on us. I'd just as soon die blissfully unaware in my bed, thank you."

Of course, John knew Rodney wasn't remotely serious--for all his pessimism, Rodney was one of the most tenacious bastards John had ever met. And that was a good thing, given that he was on their side. But John was tired enough that he too could see the appeal in being unconscious until it was all over.

He was getting pretty damn sick of the whole "snatching defeat from the jaws of victory" thing that they seemed to keep doing, here. Twelve more hive ships was just fucking unfair, and as juvenile as John felt for thinking that, he figured he could be allowed a little leeway.

Looking around, he realized that no one else in the control room had so much as glanced up at Rodney. Probably too numb or too shell-shocked to respond to anything that wasn't a brand-new crisis, too busy dealing with damage from the first attacks or gearing up for the next. John himself found Rodney's diatribe almost reassuring.

Because when things went really wrong, Rodney got quiet.

John stepped away from the display he'd been watching and stopped behind Rodney. "No rest for the weary, huh?"

He'd thought Rodney might have forgotten he was in the room, but Rodney answered him right away, without turning away from the console he and Zelenka were apparently trying to stare down into giving them the results they wanted. "No. Decidedly not." Then Rodney straightened and fixed John with a considering gaze. "Come with me, Major."

John traded a look with Zelenka and followed Rodney up the steps to the Jumper bay. It reminded him of both his earliest and latest trips up the same stairs--when Rodney had introduced him to the Jumpers for that first rescue mission, and when John had gone off alone to nuke the hive ship, expecting not to come back.

Which was all too much to think about, because they were still in some serious shit here and John just didn't have room for any of that right now. Rodney led him past the Jumper with the second Genii bomb strapped in the rear compartment, and John grimaced as he glanced at it. "What are we doing?"

"What? Nothing, nothing." Rodney stopped at a different Jumper and ducked inside, covering his face with his hands and swaying backwards into the interior bulkhead with a pained grunt. "Ow. No, sorry--I just wanted to break down in private for a change. Try something new, right before we die."

"Oh." Really not what he expected to hear, and John couldn't figure out what to do with his hands for a second. He settled for folding them over his chest. "And you brought me along because...?"

"I wanted it to look like I had come up with something brilliant which required your assistance." Rodney's voice was muffled by his forearms.

"Okay." That made a kind of twisted sense, but John didn't feel any less uncomfortable, because the first part still didn't seem to fit. "And this counts as 'in private.'"

"You do, yes," Rodney said, dropping his hands and giving John a faint, rueful smile.

"Oh." Just like that, the awkwardness faded away, and John lowered his head and leaned against the bulkhead next to Rodney, just close enough to brush their sleeves together. "Thank you. I think."

"You're welcome." Rodney didn't say anything more for a minute, and John stared at the opposite bulkhead and listened to Rodney breathing, measured and deep like he was trying to fight off exhaustion with extra oxygen.

He saw Rodney shift from the corner of his eye, and turned his head to see Rodney staring at him intently. "Do me a favor? Don't take any more Jumpers out this time."

"Rodney--"

Rodney pushed away from the bulkhead and rounded on John. The dim overhead lighting couldn't entirely account for the shadows on Rodney's face. "Find another way. _We'll_ find another way." Rodney looked weary beyond measure, and his voice was low and earnest. "Just--don't do that again. Because, I'm telling you, _snap_. Just like that."

John felt like he was missing a little context there, but he got it anyway. He nodded deliberately. "I'll do my best."

"Thank you." Rodney just kept staring at him, and it felt like the air was thick with what they weren't saying. John hadn't promised anything, and Rodney recognized that; but Rodney had to know that John _couldn't_ make that promise, and that pushing him into a hollow vow wouldn't change anything about what either of them might end up having to do.

Rodney squeezed his eyes shut and scrubbed a hand over his face, swaying a little again. John put out a hand to steady him, but Rodney got his balance back before John's hand could connect.

"What are you doing right now, Rodney?" John asked. Rodney opened his eyes, and John waved at the open hatch to indicate 'in the larger scheme of things' instead of 'here, this very second,' before Rodney had a chance to nitpick his word choice.

Though maybe he hadn't needed to, because Rodney just blinked at him. "What, besides panicking?"

John carefully didn't smile, just gave a matter-of-fact nod. "Besides panicking."

Rodney glanced up and away, twirling his hand in a graceful looping spiral. "I'm having the computer plot out the most likely path of the Wraith approach to Atlantis, given their current position and speed."

John's own exhaustion was clearly creeping up on him, because he was nearly mesmerized by Rodney's hand. He resisted the urge to snag Rodney's wrist. "You need to be there for that?"

"Not necessarily." Rodney frowned at him. "Why?"

Ignoring the question, John went on. "Thirty-six hours. You're sure?"

"Well, give or take." Rodney shrugged, without going into specifics about the passage of time, which was just as much a sign of how tired he was as anything else.

John smiled, glad that Rodney had walked right into this one. "Then there's time for you to grab a nap."

Rodney stared at him, eyes wide, as if John had just suggested they lower the shield and invite the Wraith on down for a tea party. "Are you serious?"

"About naps? Always." Especially since Rodney was looking even more ragged than before.

Rodney was already rolling his eyes and turning his head, glaring, but glaring out at the Jumper bay wall, as if John were too stupid to even merit his full attention. Before he could get rolling, John dropped a hand on Rodney's shoulder, letting the edge of his thumb brush once over the skin of Rodney's neck. "Look, you're exhausted, we've got a--short--break where nobody's shooting at us, and we're going to need you at your best to figure this thing out."

John pressed the pad of his thumb into the tight knot of muscle at the juncture of Rodney's neck and shoulder. He watched Rodney's eyelids flutter briefly before Rodney muttered, "I can't believe you've chosen this moment to become both inappropriately patronizing and dangerously short-sighted."

"This isn't patronizing, Rodney. This is my reasoned evaluation of your well-being, as your team leader," John said, tilting his head to give Rodney a sidelong glance. "I don't want you killing yourself before the Wraith try it."

"Touching," Rodney snorted, and John smirked at him.

"Just looking out for our assets," John said, too cheerfully, hitting pay dirt when Rodney huffed out a breath in disgust.

Smoothing his thumb along the ley lines of tension in Rodney's shoulder, marking the path of too many hours of hard work and stress and fear, John watched Rodney until he met John's eyes. Resentment and relief and exasperation and gratitude showed through the fatigue blurring Rodney's expression. Rodney crossed his arms over his chest, and John felt the movement of Rodney's shoulder under his hand. "Fine. But I'm going to need a sandwich."

"A sandwich."

"Large." Rodney was all seriousness, like it was a perfectly reasonable thing to demand food in exchange for deigning to rest. "A very, very large sandwich."

John felt the warmth of Rodney's shoulder through his shirt, and it was a hell of a lot better than the chill of the bulkhead under his back. Or the way John's fingers had gone nerveless and numb as he'd approached the docking bay of the hive ship. Squeezing Rodney's shoulder, John nodded thoughtfully. "I think that can be arranged."

* * *

"I'm expecting you to bring me something, of course."

John looked away from the monitor he was still staring at--well, more like staring through, as he waited for word from Caldwell that the _Daedalus_ was ready to head out and preemptively stomp on the approaching hive ships.

He and Rodney were the only ones left in the conference room. Rodney just hadn't bothered getting up after the meeting, working on uploading the most recent plot of the Wraith course to the _Daedalus_ 's navigation computer through his laptop. And John figured he'd just as soon wait here as aboard the ship.

Sooner, actually. _Daedalus_ was a fine ship--she'd saved his ass, so she was pretty high on his list of "favorite things ever" right now--but... this was Atlantis.

This was where he was supposed to be.

Rodney lifted his head and shot John an expectant look, and John finally processed what Rodney had said. He turned to face Rodney and said, "Oh, you are, are you?"

"Mmm. Yes, I am." Rodney motioned toward the ceiling and turned his attention back to the laptop. "Last time you left, you brought back a ZPM. You don't have to go that far this time, but I am expecting something on your return."

John leaned against the table near Rodney, feeling the edge dig into his hip and telling himself to relax, because tensing up before a mission never helped, even if he wouldn't actually be in a cockpit this time. He focused on Rodney and let his voice go sardonic. "What'd you have in mind?"

"Oh, something tasteful." Rodney gazed past the top of his screen, frowning a little. "The _Daedalus_ must be stocked with food and supplies, come to think of it..." He interrupted himself with a shake of his head and a horizontal cutting gesture, then looked back up at John. "But, honestly, an Air Force major in one piece would be fine."

"Rodney--" John took a breath and stepped away from the table, tightening his jaw and clenching his hands around his hips, but Rodney stood up and caught his arm before he could get far.

"Hey, you’re the one who set the precedent." Rodney held his arm a little too tightly. When John looked back at him, Rodney met his eyes solemnly, chin raised. "Seriously, just--come back safely, Major."

Rodney let go and offered John a handshake. It should have been ridiculous, way too formal for the two of them, but Rodney's grip was warm and solid. Rodney wouldn't look away from him, and John smiled softly at the genuine respect he saw there. "Thanks."

Rodney waved him off. "Don't thank me--it's just that I seem to have been left with this incredibly large turkey sandwich that's going to take forever to eat by myself." John raised his eyebrows, and Rodney kind of stuttered to a halt, flashing John the briefest of smiles before rallying his imperiousness. "Well, it's real Earth-based _turkey_ , not some bizarre Pegasus approximation, and it would be a shame for it to go to waste while I'm busy putting the city back together."

John nodded his agreement, then widened his eyes earnestly. "Are you actually offering to share your sandwich with me, Rodney?"

"Only if you come back. Otherwise, the deal's off." Rodney glared at him, and Rodney's intimidation was somehow more encouraging than all the good wishes John had ever gotten before.

John thought it was the best implied threat he'd ever received.

"I'll hold you to that," John said, smiling back at Rodney just as Rodney's laptop pinged at them, and then it was time for John to go out and stop the fleet of hive ships before it reached their city.

Rodney gave him one more warning look, stern and vulnerable all at once, and John carried that with him out to the Gate room, where the Asgard transporter beam whisked him away.

* * *

After he left Elizabeth in the Gate room, John had returned to the armory with measured steps, slow and deliberate, and set the useless Wraith stunner back in its rack with a controlled motion. He'd walked back to his quarters the same way, not hurrying, until the door slid closed behind him, and then he'd had nothing to do and nowhere to be.

When the door eventually slid open behind him again, John wondered exactly how long he'd been standing there, near the foot of the bed, just staring at _War and Peace_ on the nightstand. A while, judging by the ache in his lower back and the sharp spasm in his neck as he turned around.

"You didn't answer your door," Rodney said, frowning a little. He held out a paper-wrapped package. "Here."

John didn't take the package, just folding his arms across his--Jesus, he still had his vest on. Which was probably part of why Rodney looked so concerned, but John couldn't think about that right now. "I'm not in the mood, McKay."

"And I'm not about to renege on my commitments, so, here." Rodney set the package down on John's desk, then dug into a pocket and pulled out a handful of little plastic condiment packets, dropping them in a heap on John's desk.

Mustard and mayonnaise. John had snagged both from the supplies brought by the _Daedalus_ , because he hadn't been sure which Rodney would want, and he hadn't wanted Rodney's sandwich to get soggy, in case he'd gotten called away before eating it.

No, instead, something else had gone bad in the meantime. They should all have been celebrating the success of their latest insane Hail Mary. John would have put Ford in charge of the party, when he'd gotten up and around again.

He stared at the package on his desk, following the folds of paper with his eyes, as if they were somehow fascinating. "Not really hungry, either."

"There was no way you could have stopped him." And there Rodney went, pointing out the damn elephant in the room, but his voice was quiet and supportive, and it was almost a relief to have it out in the open.

If only so that John could poke at the open wound some more.

"I don't know about that," John said. He could have put more guards in the infirmary, or thought to cut Ford off from the Jumpers in the first place--why hadn't he thought of that? He could have kept Ford from leaving entirely, and done the chasing-around-the-city thing later.

"We'll find him, Major." Rodney moved into his line of sight, and John looked up into his face. Rodney looked worried, and John didn't want that.

John wasn't the guy who anyone else should be worrying about.

So he said, "It's a big galaxy, Rodney," with all the dismissive condescension he could muster.

Of course, this would have to be one of the times when Rodney wouldn't take redirecting. With his "I know you're not that stupid" glare, Rodney said, "And you're not only the most stubborn person I've ever met--myself included, which is really saying something--you're also completely incapable of sitting still when you think there's something you could be doing. So we'll find him." Rodney cleared his throat, and said, in a lofty tone, "Now stop wallowing, accept the benefits of my magnanimity, and take your share of this sandwich."

The idea of anyone describing Rodney as magnanimous was improbable enough to force a grudging smile out of John, but Rodney's actual generosity of spirit--much though Rodney tried to fight it--made John's smile genuine. He squinted at Rodney and asked, "Now who's being patronizing?"

"Oh, please." Rodney rolled his eyes, but his voice was nowhere near as sharp as he was capable of. "It's purely enlightened self-interest. It would make us all look bad if our chief _military_ asset passed out in front of the new troops because he couldn't be bothered to eat."

Rodney started unwrapping the sandwich, and John leaned against the desk, next to him. "That's not a nice thing to say about Colonel Caldwell."

"Right, like you didn't know I wasn't talking about Caldwell." Rodney pulled a camp knife from another pocket--damn, now John was going to wonder if he kept utensils on him at all times--and sliced into the sandwich, sliding part of it towards John, on the paper. "Stop fishing for a compliment and eat."

John picked up the portion he'd been cut, then looked down at what was left. "I only get a third?"

"I said I'd share it with you. I never said it would be an equal share."

"No, of course not. What was I thinking?" John picked a mustard packet out of the pile and turned it over in his hand for a minute, watching Rodney going through some complicated ritual of his own involving a healthy application of mayo and some precise alignment of layers of cheese and turkey and bread. "Thanks," John said softly, and he wasn't just talking about the sandwich.

Rodney lifted his head and looked back at John for a minute, giving him a quick smile before looking down again, fumbling at the wrapping. "Right. So. I'm going to--I'm just going to go now."

"You don't have to," John said, maybe too quickly, but he wasn't up for watching another member of his team--another person he cared about--walk away right now.

He couldn't quite see Rodney's face from this angle, but Rodney's hands went still.

"Oh. Okay." Rodney took the desk chair when John nodded at it. John brought his leg up, half-sitting on the desk, and he watched Rodney go to town on his part of the sandwich with unbridled delight.

Maybe it was just because John hadn't had real turkey in something like nine months, but it was better than he remembered. Despite the fact that he really hadn't thought he was actually hungry, John finished his own off in time to steal a slice of cheese from Rodney's.

And even though Rodney gave him a dirty look, he was pretty sure Rodney had let him do it.


End file.
